pooch
by Axletia Rosonetis
Summary: Giovanni never was very good at working with others. Oneshot.


_pooch_

 _(Original notes: Nothing relevant.)_

 _Originally written August 1st, 2015 on tumblr for Giovanni Day. Hmmm, this is in-between teen and mature just because of language, but viewer discretion advised anyway. Vicious does need to be represented more often._

* * *

He hated this. He hated everything about this. He hated wearing such a scratchy, tight uniform. The shirt barely covered his navel and the pants hung closer to his thighs than his ankles and the boots were too narrow on both sides of his feet. It wasn't the first time his tall and broad stature had been to his disadvantage, but he knew that the uniforms ran in bigger sizes; his boss knew that, too…his mother.

He hated her and that smirk on her face that still got under his skin even after all those years. He hated the guy standing beside him, even though he'd never seen him before in his life, with his hairy, muscled arms and his gaudy, clunky helmet. If this was going to be another incident where he would be 'target practice' at a shoot range, he would rather take his chances living in the Viridian Forest again. The bug pokemon weren't so bad if one had some bug spray with them.

But his mother finally broke the silence, pressing that exposed chest of hers against her desk, probably to flatter herself into thinking that she wasn't getting closer ad closer to becoming a shriveled, old hag with crow's feet and stale perfume. One day he'd lock her up in Headquarters basement, use her as a scaremurkrow. "Brat boy, I have asked you here today to discuss your performance," Madame Boss began, half-glancing at a stack of papers. "As you know, normally I wouldn't deal with this sorta crap personally, but your performance this quarter has been so poor it's not even funny. You're costing me more money than usual."

"I really don't care, Moth-"

She flung the papers at his face. A couple of their edges made scratches against his face, and he was pretty sure the contents had nothing to do with his performance report. "Giovanni. You can't keep abandoning your partners and running off to God knows where whenever you feel like it, especially when _I'm_ funding your checks! I won't die as easily as you think. I still got a lotta Rapidash to gamble on, and I'm not about to let some brat boy ruin me just 'cause he wants his life on a silver platter!

"Sooo…this mysterious man with the nice ass is Kenny." Gesturing to the man beside him, Giovanni thought his mother winked. "He'll be your temporary partner while he works his magic on his parole officer, shape you up to be someone slightly less pathetic. Kenny, dear, you already know the arrangements."

Kenny nodded his head. "Yes, Madame."

"Good. You two will pose as brothers to make a deal with a pharmaceutical company in Pewter City. The details'll be with the secretary, but this is a fairly large deal for some painkillers. You have a week to prepare. I suggest you don't fuck this up."

His mother's words fell from his ears as he stepped out of the office. The job didn't sound too difficult, and he didn't need some brutish piece of eyecandy to help negotiate with him. He could make this deal with his hands tied behind his back. All he needed was to ditch this guy, just like the others; a small bribe ought to do it. Smirking, he looked up at his so-called partner. "Well, Kenny, I know you must be very eager to prepare for this job, but, ha, I'm an only child and I really don't work well with others. I was thinking I could do this job on my own, save you some trouble. I'll be glad to give you a nice cut, of course."

The next thing he knew, Giovanni felt his nose crash into the wall, warm blood gushing downward. When he tried to lift up his head, he felt his ponytail yank backward. Behind him something pressed against his back, and towering above him Kenny breathed against his neck. It smelled like 10AM vodka, a familiar scent. "I go by Vicious," he growled."Madame Boss told me anything goes, save from killing you. And I don't give a fuck about you, so I don't mind shooting you or stabbing you or gouging one of your pretty little eyes out. Whatever makes us a happy family, eh?"

"You fucking son of a bitch. You can't find anything fresher than my mother's panties, or you just can't be bothered to try hard enough?"

"They'll be the ticket to me becoming your stepdad and letting me hunt you down in the forest you love so much."

Vicious released his grip, and Giovanni wiped the rest of the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He had to hand it to the guy for physically threatening him. Most of his previous partners were too scared to even look him in the eye. No wonder his mother decided to assign him as her personal attack Houndoom. But he wasn't about to be intimidated by any blood-thirsty pooch; Vicious was probably one of those idiots who shoot first, ask questions later, and get caught by the police not soon after that. All Giovanni had to do was bide his time…and play the game that was dealt to him.

 _Temporary_ partner. Ha. Even if he couldn't shake the pooch off this week, he was sure that said pooch would cross his parole officer's wrong buttons again sooner rather than later.

Assured that he had a good hand dealt, he offered his hand. Squinting his eyes behind that awful helmet, Vicious reluctantly shook it, staring him down like Persian did while hunting bird pokemon. Well, there was always a food chain to the circles of life, and if Vicious was his Persian, then he was the pokemon trainer, the boss. And he was. "If it comes down to that, friend, I'd suggest using your brains rather than brawns. You underestimate the forest."

"And _you_ estimate your brother. My parole officer isn't for show."

"Oh, I've no doubt of that. By the way, you should get yourself checked before we start the mission. My mother had syphilis just a couple of weeks ago, and it would be tragic if anything happened to you prior to getting treatment."

He left his dear partner and brother screaming at him from across the corridor, screaming that could be heard even from two flights of stairs, and the pooch was loud enough for Persian to stir from his pokeball. When the feline let out an annoyed meow at him, he scratched behind his ears. "Let's not shake him off too fast. I'd like to see just how loud he can bark."

He still hated his partner, but this would definitely be more fun than expected. Perhaps at the end he'd tip off the parole officer himself. One couldn't keep a stray off of its leash for too long.


End file.
